[ For that long moment they're just staring at each other, taking each other in, and it's not quite the kind of tension he was expecting, readying himself for in those split seconds. They both just seem— confused, and it's awkward but it's not terrible, just a breath of air held in the lungs for a beat or two too long before it's exhaled again.
Little blinks openly at the way she's looking up at him now, eyes all big and round and mournful, and maybe more vulnerable than he's seen Wynonna ever look at him, tilted against the doorframe, not angry but..... something else. When he learns what it is, his own eyes widen (and, for a comical moment, he reflects that mournful look right back, the pair of them locked in another round of staring: Puppy Eyes Edition).
'Apologize. I came to apologize. I'm really sorry.'
And she's holding something up, a bottle that's recognisable as alcohol, and Edward gives a soft exhale of realisation through the lingering confusion, and he doesn't know at all how to handle this, but he's pushing the door open wider because there's only one option that feels right to begin with, and it's— ]
Will you come inside?
[ It's not his usual way to handle things, even just that small bit of framing. Will you isn't Would you like to, even if the two things are very close. Close, but not the same, because it's more of a request (a little too bold for his usual comfort zone) and it's his turn to bite his lower lip for a moment, worrying soft tissue, taking a step back from the door. If there were any lingering doubts as to his invitation inwards, that gesture nips them clean; he's stepping back so she can step in.
Please come in, he thinks, once and then twice and then another time. He wants her to. There are so many things to say — his own apologies to make, and explanations to give (even if he doesn't know where to begin, how to convey any of it), and even as much as he's baffled by this, taken aback by all of it, his heart knows exactly what it wants, which is to make sure that Wynonna comes in, and this time, stays. ]
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Little blinks openly at the way she's looking up at him now, eyes all big and round and mournful, and maybe more vulnerable than he's seen Wynonna ever look at him, tilted against the doorframe, not angry but..... something else. When he learns what it is, his own eyes widen (and, for a comical moment, he reflects that mournful look right back, the pair of them locked in another round of staring: Puppy Eyes Edition).
'Apologize. I came to apologize. I'm really sorry.'
And she's holding something up, a bottle that's recognisable as alcohol, and Edward gives a soft exhale of realisation through the lingering confusion, and he doesn't know at all how to handle this, but he's pushing the door open wider because there's only one option that feels right to begin with, and it's— ]
Will you come inside?
[ It's not his usual way to handle things, even just that small bit of framing. Will you isn't Would you like to, even if the two things are very close. Close, but not the same, because it's more of a request (a little too bold for his usual comfort zone) and it's his turn to bite his lower lip for a moment, worrying soft tissue, taking a step back from the door. If there were any lingering doubts as to his invitation inwards, that gesture nips them clean; he's stepping back so she can step in.
Please come in, he thinks, once and then twice and then another time. He wants her to. There are so many things to say — his own apologies to make, and explanations to give (even if he doesn't know where to begin, how to convey any of it), and even as much as he's baffled by this, taken aback by all of it, his heart knows exactly what it wants, which is to make sure that Wynonna comes in, and this time, stays. ]